


Windows and Souls

by pissedoffeskimo



Series: Incestuous Cross-country Shenanigans [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2413487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedoffeskimo/pseuds/pissedoffeskimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel won’t stop staring, Sam’s just about had enough of everything, and Dean is completely oblivious, but then what else is new? (Set during Season 4)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“He’s staring at me again.”

Sam looked over at Castiel and shrugged, “A lot of people stare at you, Dean. It’s never bothered you before.”

“No, but this is different.”

Sam looked again and maybe the staring was a little more intense then usual, but he was an angel, things were bound to be intense. Then he looked at Dean, who was staring back and rolled his eyes. “If it makes you so uncomfortable, maybe you should stop staring back.”

Dean’s frown deepened and he tried to look away, but found himself drawn back, because, damnit, it was hard to ignore it when someone stared at you like that and it wasn’t just that he was staring at Dean, either. He was staring into Dean’s eyes. Right. Into. His eyes. It was the most absurdly intense eye contact Dean had ever experienced and he shifted in his seat.

He got the sinking feeling this was going to get really weird.

 

****

 

They didn’t see Cas a lot in the beginning, so one minute he was there and Dean couldn’t shake the uncomfortable watched feeling, but then he’d be gone again and just about the time Dean forgot about the staring, he’d show up again and it was back to being uncomfortable.

“Dude, he’s doing it again.” Sam sighed, clearly irritated by being jarred from whatever he’d been doing or thinking. Dean wasn’t really sure, he hadn’t been paying attention. “Did you see?”

“Yeah, Dean, I’ve seen it a thousand times.”

“Well, that’s clearly an exaggeration.” Sam stared down at him and Dean suddenly realized he was being stared at by two people and he wasn’t sure what he’d done to either of them to deserve it.

Sam closed his eyes and stretched his arms above his head with a groan and Dean let his mind wander to what those tight, tensed muscles looked like under all those layers. Sam’s eyes opened and his lips tightened judgmentally. “Now you’re the one staring.”

Dean shrugged it off, because, yeah, of course he was staring. Staring at Sam wasn’t anything new. Dean stared at Sam all the time. He stared at Sam when he was mad at him. He stared at Sam when he was trying to figure out why Sam was mad at him. He stared at him when he ate those fancy little breakfast pastries they splurged on so Dean could watch his brother perv over them and make little noises in the back of his throat that Dean was pretty sure he wasn’t even aware he was making. He stared at him when he was mentally undressing him. He stared at him when he wanted to actually undress him. He stared at him when…

Then it clicked.

 

*****

 

The second he managed to get Cas alone, Dean jumped on it. He jumped on it like when Sam was sixteen and asked Dean what a prostate was and if it was real.

“Do you want to have sex?”

Cas frowned with his whole face, which was actually kind of funny and Dean filed that away to think about later, after he finished having crazy sex with a freakin’ angel. Not a fallen one, either, an actual, honest to God angel. With wings. He was going to be able to hold this over Sam for _years_.

“Are you asking if I wish to… copulate with you?”

The confusion made Dean’s confidence waver and he tried to look anywhere but the eyes that are still staring way too intently at him for someone who didn’t want to have sex. Or copulate. Or whatever.

“Yea… maybe? Would you?”

“To what end?”

“Um…” Dean backed up a step and tried to decide how this had gone so spectacularly wrong. Or if it was going wrong, because Cas was still staring at him, so maybe it hadn’t gone wrong, maybe it was going right. “Because it would feel good?”

“Would it?”

Actually, now that Dean thought about it, he had no idea if angels were even able to have sex. Presumably, since they were in human vessels, they had all the equipment, Anna sure as hell could, but she hadn’t really been so much an angel at the time, so maybe not.

Castiel nodded to himself thoughtfully against Dean’s silence. “I suppose it must. Humans do it often. Would you like to?”

And he was staring into Dean’s eyes again and Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “No, you know what, it’s not, just… no, never mind.”

 

*****

 

But if that wasn’t why he was staring at him all the damn time, then… why?!

Sam shoved the lid of the laptop down a little harder then necessary and glared at Dean from across the room. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because it’s creepy, Sam.”

“No, creepy is what popped up on my internet browser history this morning, Dean, not an angel of the lord making platonic eyes at you.”

He ignored the browser history remark, because there was nothing creepy about jacking off to up-skirt shots of hot Asian chicks wearing skimpy school girl uniforms while Sam slept in the bed next to him. Dropping his towel on the floor by the tub, Dean ruffled his hands through his hair before making his way into the room and sitting on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I’m still not convinced it’s platonic. I know platonic and nothing in that stare says he wants to hang out and trade baseball cards.”

“Honestly, Dean, I don’t think you’d know platonic if it _didn’t_ bite you in the ass.” Sam glanced over, his eyes moving from Dean’s face down his naked, splayed out body before coming back up a little too quickly. Yeah, he was totally in there.

“Whatever, we doin’ this?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Classy.”

Dean shrugged and waited, one hand behind his head, the other stroking himself, because why the hell not?

“God, you are a total slut, you know that right?”

Again, he shrugged. “Technically, I’ve only had sex with three people and I’m twenty-nine. You’re twenty-five and in the double digits. That makes you the slut.”

“For the last time, ‘re-virginized’ is not a thing.”

“Totally a thing.”

Sam gave him full on bitch face – the one reserved for when he was pissed about something, but he wasn’t going to tell Dean, because it was apparently up to Dean to figure it out - and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Dean made a mental note to figure out what the hell his problem was, right after he figured out why Cas insisting on prolonged eye contact.

 

*****

 

“So, I’m sucking him off and…”

“Wow, wait, just back up a second there!” Sam looked up from his laptop, balanced on his thighs where he’d stretched out over the other bed, his back to the headboard and Dean stopped rubbing the slide of his pistol with the oil rag and waited. “You were sucking him off?”

“Well, yeah. I got him a prostitute, but he kind of freaked her out, so…”

“He freaked her out?”

“Yeah, apparently, he tried to talk to her about her daddy issues and she kicked him out.” At least that got him a chuckle from the other bed. “So, I finished what she didn’t start.”

“Okay, fine, and then what?” Sam was back to scrolling through something on his laptop and Dean wasn’t sure what it was, because they weren’t exactly working a case, but who the hell knew with Sam. Maybe he was reading a dissertation of the migratory pattern of wild geese.

“Right, so I’m sucking him off for like twenty minutes, Sam. Twenty fucking minutes and my jaw’s aching and I couldn’t figure out what the hell I was doing wrong, because, this mouth? This mouth was made to please and I can count on one hand the number of times it’s taken ten minutes to get someone off, male or female, but never more then that and sure as hell not twenty.”

Sam didn’t look nearly as impressed as Dean thought he should have.

“And I’m using every trick in the book. I’m working him with my hand, I’ve got my tongue doing that thing you like,” Sam’s eyes narrowed, but Dean was too intent on the story to really notice, “I’m going to town on him and it’s just… nothing. He’s hard, but that’s about it. He wasn’t even making any noise. No panting, no moaning, nothing. So, I figure, maybe I need to ask him what the hell I’m doing wrong and I look up, still sucking and he’s staring at me and we make eye contact and he just blows his load the second our eyes meet.”

He paused, but Sam didn’t appear to have anything to say on the matter, so Dean continued, “And don’t get me wrong, I mean, twenty minutes or not, I got a full blown angel to cum down my throat, so it wasn’t a total loss, but the eye contact thing? It’s just creepy.”

He paused again, but now that he looked, Sam wasn’t just staring. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed, his breath coming too deep, too even, too controlled. Then Sam set his laptop on the bedside table and slid his legs over so his feet were on the carpet and Dean had just enough time to say, “What are you…?” before Sam grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him across the two feet between the beds, pulling him on top and into a heated kiss, which wasn’t exactly what he was going for when he started the conversation, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

 

*****

 

“The eyes are the windows to the soul.”

“Whatsat?” Dean looked up from the burger he was inhaling to Sam, who was sitting across from him at the table, laptop open, looking way to smug for someone quoting Shakespeare.

“The eyes are the windows to the soul. Cas is an angel, right?”

“Uh hu.”

“What if he’s, you know, looking into your soul?” Dean chewed more slowly, considering. “I mean, it makes sense in a… perverse sort of way.”

“What’s perverse about it?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… he does do a lot staring…”

“Ha! You have noticed!”

Sam flinched, “Okay, yeah, fine, a little. He kind of… stared at me too, once. Just once.” Like he was making excuses for having been stared at, because when Cas stared, it felt kind of violating, which, if Sam was right about the whole soul thing, it probably at least sort of was.

“And?”

“And nothing.” Sam pushing the rest of his fries at Dean, “It was when Allistair nearly killed you and I… took care of it and Cas looked at me, like, really, _really_ , looked at me.”

“What’d you do?”

“I don’t know, made some crack about later and he got confused and I didn’t want to explain and it was really awkward. Thankfully, we had to get you to a hospital, so there wasn’t a lot of time to talk.”

“So glad my life threatening injuries could be of assistance.”

“Right, so I’ve spent the last few months researching angels and there’s not a lot out there that isn’t complete bullshit, but after a while, I got to thinking about all that talk about souls and then I remembered that stupid quote and I thought, hey, maybe there’s something to it. Just a theory.”

Dean rolled it over in his head and, as far as theories about angels went, it wasn’t a half bad one. It was worth looking into, if nothing else. “So, that’s what you’ve been doing on your laptop this whole time?”

“What did you think I was doing?”

“Gerbil porn.”

“Jerk. One fucking time…”

Dean chuckled around the last of the fries, because that shit never got old.

 

*****

 

_“You have a beautiful soul, Dean. It’s… hard not to look.”_

Sam was right and on some level, Dean had thought knowing would at least make it a little better, but somehow it was worse, because Sam was even more pissy then he had been, which made absolutely no sense, because Sam had been right. In their entire lives there had never been a time when Sam being right had made him more pissed.

All Dean had said was, “Dude, you were right!”

Sam had spit his toothpaste in the sink and slurred something like, “Ribouwha?” before swishing water into his mouth. Thankfully, Dean spoke all forms of Sam, but he was especially good with ‘trying to talk with his mouth full’ Sam.

“The soul thing.”

Sam spit, reaching for a towel, “And?”

“And nothing, he’s got a thing for my soul because he got all touchy feely with it dragging me out of Hell. But, hey, I can pretty much get him off in under five minutes if I maintain eye contact, so there’s that. Speaking of getting off.”

He left it open, but Sam didn’t respond, just brushed his hair back with damp hands and got in the bed, back to Dean. Really, that just about summed up Dean’s life – he solved one problem, just to have another pop up in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

“Idjit.”

“What?!”

“You heard me, boy.”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

He hadn’t. Really, he hadn’t. He’d just been talking to Sam about how Cas making eye contact with someone was like Dean staring at a nice pair of tits in a low cut shirt. Except when Dean did it, he got slapped and it totally wasn’t fair. Although, on the plus side, Dean had been doing some experimenting and it turned out that denying Cas eye contact made it more difficult for him to cum, which meant he could keep it going for like thirty freakin’ minutes at a time, which was how long it took for Dean to finally tap out.

Then Sam had stormed out with Dean chasing behind him, yelling, “What? What did I do? Come on, Sammy!” While Sam drove off in the Impala, leaving Dean standing in the middle of the scrap yard with Bobby wiping a tool down over an engine he was rebuilding, shaking his head, saying, “Idjit.”

“You know what this is about?

Bobby ducked under the hood of the car wordlessly.

“How the hell do you know what’s going on? You weren’t even there.”

“’Cause I’m not deaf, dumb, and stupid, boy, unlike you.”

Dean opened his mouth, but thought better about what he was about to say and stormed back into the house instead.

 

*****

 

Sam was back before sunup and Dean figured everything was okay, because he woke up at four in the morning to Sam doing ungodly things with his mouth and, since they were apparently okay, Dean returned the favor before falling asleep again. Except when he woke up at noon, Sam was back to ignoring him.

“And I just can’t figure out what his problem is.”

Cas nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, that is perplexing. Although, I’m unsure why you’re talking to me about this – my grasp of human emotion is very limited. You should be talking to Sam.”

“No! God, no, he’s the last person I want to talk to.”

“I fail to see your reasoning.”

“See, Cas, I’m a guy. I just want to know what I did wrong so I can fix it and go back to groping Sam whenever Bobby isn’t watching. ”

“I think you underestimate how often Bobby is watching.”

“But if I go to Sam, he’s gonna want to talk about his feelings and whatever feelings he thinks I’m having…”

“He’s often correct.”

“That’s not the point. Of course he’s right, doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.”

Cas went over it in his head again, frowning, “That makes very little sense.”

Dean tipped his bottle to Cas, who was sitting next to him on the hood of some run down junker, lost in the middle of scrap yard. ‘Little sense’ was better then ‘no sense’ which was where they’d been the last time they’d tried this. He downed the last half of the bottle in a long pull and sighed.

“You ready to do this?”

“Of course, I did answer your prayer.”

“Right, remember, open your throat this time. Don’t choke on it.”

 

*****

 

“Sam, you can’t keep ignoring me, it’s ridiculous.”

Sam didn’t look up from the demonic tome he was flipping through. “Does that mean you want to talk about it?”

“No, I… no, absolutely not.” Dean started to walk out, then stopped, deflated. As much as he hated talking, Sam obviously needed it and, more pointedly, Dean wanted to get into Sam’s pants and he had enough experience to know that if Sam wanted to talk, he wasn’t letting Dean anywhere near his ass until they had. Right, he’d just have to take one for the team. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Too bad.”

“Son of a bitch!” 

Dean stormed into the study and flopped on the couch, glaring openly at Sam while he ate his pocket pie more viciously then necessary. It shouldn’t be this hard. Sam liked to talk. Sam was always bitching at him about how he needed to talk. Sam probably thought the world’s problems could be solved if everyone just talked. So why wasn’t he willing to do it now?

When Sam hadn’t so much as look at him, Dean tossed the wrapper in the trash and went out in search of Bobby, who was still working on the Ford he’d been stripping for parts.

“Man, I don’t get it.”

“I’m not listening to this horse shit.”

Dean ignored him. “I finally agree to talk and he wants nothing to do with it.”

“What the hell do you expect?”

Dean leaned onto the roof of the car, “Well, maybe if someone would throw me a freakin’ bone, I’d be able to figure this out.”

“What’s going on, Dean Winchester, is that you have your head up your ass. Hand me the ratchet.”

“Ten?”

“Seven.” 

Dean passed it over with a belabored sigh and Bobby went back to work. “How am I supposed to get my head out of my ass if no one’ll tell me how it got up there in the first place?”

A muffled curse, followed by something that sounded like it could be a sentence came from somewhere inside the engine and Dean leaned forward. “What was that?”

“I said, if I have to sit here and listen to this, least you could do is get me a beer.”

“Right.” 

He pushed off the car and headed back into the house. It was eerily quiet, just like it had been for the last few days. As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, Dean had a full half a second to note that Sam wasn’t in the chair at the table, before he was thrown back against a wall toppling over a stack of books as Sam pressed in close, smothering Dean’s protests with his mouth.

Great, if he wasn’t being ignored, he was being mauled, but at least Dean knew how to respond to this. He got a fist into Sam’s shirt and pulled him in, pressing his hips up into his brother’s in a hard thrust. This he was good at, this he understood.

With a low growl, Sam backed up until he hit the fridge, then twisted around and the edge of the counter dug into Dean’s ass before Sam’s hands got a grip under his thighs, lifting him up to sit on it. Okay, this was a little different. Usually, it would have been Sam on the counter, Dean shoving him back and around until they had a good angle for hard and rough. The same hands gripped Dean’s ass, pulling him half off the edge to lock their hips together, his legs spread wide and, okay, different didn’t necessarily mean bad. Whatever was eating the kid up, he could let him have this, at least for now.

Besides, Dean would bite off his own tongue before admitting it, but being manhandled wasn’t exactly a turn off. Sam pushed Dean’s shirt up, sliding his hands into the back of his jeans and squeezed, grinding forward. Yeah, definitely not a turn off.

Sam nipped at his chin, down his neck and bit his shoulder and Dean let himself be pushed back, his shoulders jammed against the wall as Sam pushed his shirt up and worked his mouth over Dean’s abdomen, pecs, teeth and tongue on his nipples while he worked open his pants and…

The door rattled on its hinges as something slammed into it and Sam scrambled back, cursing as Dean got his feet under him, both of them smoothing out their shirts and trying desperately not to look like they were about to have sex in Bobby’s kitchen. Again.

Bobby didn’t bother to look at them as he went to fridge, “There’s a window, you idjits.”

Sure enough, Dean could just make out the Ford Bobby had been working on through the open window. From over by the sink, where Dean had been slammed around it would have been a clear view to where Bobby had been working. It was probably the failings of having practically grown up in motel rooms. The shades were always drawn tight, because they didn’t want anyone to see the extensive arms collection lying around, but Bobby didn’t have to worry about things like closing the blinds, because no one lived close enough to him to see in and if they did, well, it was his house and he had permits.

“Huh. Guess Cas was right about you seeing more then I give you credit for.”

Sam frowned, “When did he say that?”

“We met up a few days ago, made small talk, exchanged blow jobs. He’s getting better, but I’m starting to worry deep throating just isn’t gonna take. It’s not a breathing thing. He’s an angel, he doesn’t have to breathe, but every time I get back there, he tightens up. Future him was really good at it, but he was mostly human.” He snapped his fingers, “You know, he smoked a lot of weed. I wonder how much weed it would take to get an angel high?”

He looked from Bobby to Sam, expectantly, but Sam was staring at him with narrowed eyes. 

“What?”

The door slammed behind him as Sam stormed out into the scrap yard, leaving Dean feeling a little dumbfounded and Bobby shaking his head. Before Dean could say anything, Bobby held up a hand. “Think about it.”

“What? I just… all I said was Cas… is it Cas?”

“Think, Dean.”

He was, he really was, but… “Sam likes Cas. Well, okay, maybe he doesn’t like him, but he certainly doesn’t hate him, he puts up with him just fine, he… wait, is it the sex?”

“Think.”

“Why would he be bothered by the sex?”

“…”

“Sex has never bothered him before and I’ve had plenty of sex. Like, a lot of sex. I’ve crossed off every state and a few foreign countries. This one time, I crossed international borders. I brokered a peace treaty between…”

“Dean!”

“Right, sorry, but it doesn’t make sense, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Are you saying…? Is he jealous?!” 

But it couldn’t be that, because that was absolutely ridiculous. Sam didn’t get jealous. Sam never got jealous. Dean had been sleeping around since he was fifteen and the only thing Sam ever had to say on it was exactly how much of a slut Dean was. Sam didn’t care if Dean got random tail on the side, except… except maybe Cas wasn’t so random, because now that Dean thought about it, he didn’t really go back for seconds. Cassie, sure, but Sam was in college and there was Lisa, but he didn’t know about her.

Bobby set his half empty beer down, “I’m goin’ into town for groceries,” which was a polite way of saying he didn’t want to be around for the makeup sex that was most likely going to ensue. “You need anything?”

“No, no, I’m good. Take your time.”

“And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep it out of the kitchen.”

 

*****

 

“Sam.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dean.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Dean sat on the hood of the car across from Sam and Sam stared at his hands rather than at his brother.

“You want to tell me why you’re jealous of Cas?”

“I’m not…” Sam looked up as he spoke and stopped at the raised eyebrows looking back at him. “Okay, fine, it’s just…”

When he didn’t continue right away, Dean leaned forward, “It’s just what?”

Sam diverted his attention back to his hands, “The whole soul thing. He knows your soul, he’s touched your soul, I can’t… Dean, I can’t do that. I can’t even come close. Seriously, you barely let me touch your car.”

Dean chuckled a little, because, yeah, his soul was one thing, Baby, though? That was another matter. Then he frowned, because Dean was good at a lot of things, most of them related to hunting, cars, and sex, but if there was anything he was really bad at – other then pole dancing – it was talking about his feelings. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand them, because he knew exactly how he felt about Sam, it was just that he didn’t know how to put it into words that weren’t going to sound like something out of Bobby’s cheesy romance novels. But Sam needed to hear it, and even if Dean choked on his own tongue getting it out, he was going to say it.

“All right, Sam, I want you to listen very carefully, because I am only gonna say this once.” He took a deep breath in and held it for a second before forcing the words out through a tight jaw. “He can touch my soul all he wants, but that doesn’t mean anything, because you, and only you, Sammy, get my heart.”

Sam blinked at him and Dean could actually feel the heat rising in his face, turning it redder by the second. “Wow, Dean, that was… actually kind of painful to listen to.”

He broke out laughing and Dean grimaced, “Yeah, well, you should have been on this end of it. So, are we good?”

Sam nodded, unable to form words through his laughter and Dean glared at him until Sam finally managed to deep breathe his way into just smiling like an idiot, panting a little.

Dean glared, “You done?”

Sam nodded again, not trusting himself to actually talk.

“You ever tell anyone about this…”

“Valentines Day Debacle 1998, yeah, I know.” Sam finished for him, because remembering that sobered him up every time. Didn’t wipe the grin off his face, though, because seriously, he had Dean’s heart? He was never gonna get tired of reminding Dean about that.

Dean gave him a few more seconds of dubious scrutiny before rolling his shoulders, “God, I feel dirty now.”

“Want to go up to the bedroom and let me take care of that for you?” Sam gave a suggestive eye brow wiggle when Dean looked up, but he just shook his head.

“No, after that little speech, anything we do in our bed is gonna feel too much like making love.”

“Kitchen, then?” Because they’d been halfway there earlier, might as well finish the job.

“Nah, Bobby warned us off.”

Too hot to do it outside. Couldn’t do the study, either, because Bobby had said he’d shoot them if he caught them in there again. Panic room wasn’t much fun. Sam usually came out of that with bruised knees. That didn’t leave a lot of other options, except…

“Hey, Dean?” Dean grunted at him, still running through the same train of thought Sam probably was. “I know you said our bed is off limits, but what about, uh… what about Bobby’s bed?”

Dean’s eyes shot up. “Sam, you kinky little bitch. He catches us in there, he won’t even give us a warning, just go straight for the gun.”

Sam shrugged, because he could tell from the increasingly large swell at the front of Dean’s jeans, the idea of getting shot wasn’t exactly a deterrent.

“God, you know how wrong that is? The bed probably smells like him.”

Sam rubbed himself through his pants, “Not for long.”

Dean cursed and got up, heading to the house with Sam on his heels, “You know this means we can’t stay the night, right? We wash the sheets, he’s gonna know something happened, we don’t wash them, he’s gonna smell it.”

“I think I’ll live as long I still have your heart.”

“You shut your mouth.”

“Make me.”


End file.
